


line of fire

by justjoy



Series: 4869 // 1412: the dcmk alternate 'verses [12]
Category: Gundam 00, Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: (also how did this end up being my second-longest complete fic idk), (ft. the author's sorry excuse for a plot), (i'm actually nervous about posting this but here you go), Alternate Universe, Conan!POV, Crossover, Gen, Gundam 00 Week 2017, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 10:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjoy/pseuds/justjoy
Summary: Tieria doesn’t even glance up, only covers his headset’s microphone before speaking. “The FBI issued you a windbreaker, Agent Dylandy, not a cloak.”(Or, the Meisters as the FBI team from Detective Conan, forGundam 00 Weekday 2: parallel universe/AU.)





	1. line of fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (come say hi on [tumblr](http://presumenothing.tumblr.com/)!)
> 
> this is a massively self-indulgent fic that exists because NinthFeather landed me with this plotbunny, which the muse promptly ran away with… and refused to stop? uh. anyway, first time writing G00 fic, pardon any character weirdness.
> 
> if you’re unfamiliar with Detective Conan: the events onscreen here are non-canon, but a general character outline – _*takes deep breath*_
> 
> Edogawa Conan, real name Kudo Shinichi: high school detective shrunk to six-year-old after being poisoned by the Black Organisation (aka a criminal organisation with literal alcohol codenames for members). lives with his (well, Shinichi's) childhood friend Mouri Ran while secretly working with the FBI and various alphabet soup agencies to bring the Org down.
> 
> Kaitou Kid, real name Kuroba Kaito: phantom thief who sends advance notes for his heists, which often resemble big magic shows except that he steals (and eventually returns) jewels. has lots of fans (not the ventilation kind). usually pursued unsuccessfully by a Task Force led by Inspector Nakamori, and more successfully by Conan.
> 
> Haibara Ai: ex-member who escaped the Org, shrunk after taking the same drug, and is aware of Conan's identity. now lives with Shinichi’s neighbour Prof Agasa while attending elementary school with Conan and the Detective Boys (aka three _actual_ kids who have seen waaay too many dead bodies than is advisable for their age).
> 
> … _whew_ , okay, that’s about all you need to understand what’s going on in this fic. hopefully. gimme a shout if anything's still unclear, I guess?
> 
> if you’re unfamiliar with Gundam 00: (a) w h y, (b) this is set in DC anyway (just with non-canon events) so you shouldn’t have a problem, and (c) seriously, give Gundam 00 a try, it’s literally 2 seasons of 25 episodes and a movie, if you survived DC you can definitely watch it.
> 
> right. apologies for the long-ass note, you can has fic now, enjoy?

**iv.**

The first thought Conan has upon seeing Neil Dylandy is: _what._

The one that follows is slightly more coherent, but no less puzzled. At this height, most of his view is blocked by officers lining the perimeter, but it’s still enough to get a good look at the foreigner having a lively but amiable discussion (on one side, at least) with Nakamori.

Kaitou Kid’s heist target of the night is one of several jewels owned by a Frenchman named Patrick Colasour, who reminded Conan strongly of Suzuki Jirokichi, up to and including having chosen to run the exhibit at one of the largest venues in Tokyo, all while boasting about his unbeatable security measures. Conan doesn’t recall this man being part of Colasour’s security team, though.

He weaves his way around the hectic bustle of the heist site until he reaches the inspector, whose mounting annoyance is quite audible to anyone within earshot.

“ – a damn what you say, I’ve already had to deal with that Colasour guy’s idiocy and I’m not letting anyone else into the heist, this isn’t some bloody party – ”

Nakamori’s tirade stops abruptly when he notices Conan beside him, which suits him just fine. “Who’s this oji-san, Nakamori-keibu?”

“The name’s Neil Dylandy,” the man answers instead, making _actual finger guns_ at Conan. “I’ve been trying to convince the good inspector here to let me in, I think I could be of some help.”

That’s enough to set Nakamori back off. “Like I said, I don’t care if you’re FBI or PSB or whatever, this heist is my jurisdiction and for all I know you might be Kid himself in disguise!”

Conan considers it for a moment before putting on his best helpful-little-kid act, grinning cheerfully up at the inspector. “What if Dylandy-san stays with me? Kid’s never been able to fool me with his disguises, after all.”

(It’s even mostly true, if he allows for the fact that it sometimes takes a while before he’s sure who the thief is impersonating this time.)

At any rate, he doesn’t think that this is another one of Kid’s covers. With all the extra officers Nakamori has requisitioned from other divisions in order to effectively cover the size of today’s heist site, it isn’t like Kid is particularly lacking in possible disguises that’d allow him access with far less attention.

On the other hand, if this really is Kid pulling a ridiculous bluff for some reason that Conan hasn’t figured out yet… well, all the better to keep an eye on him, isn’t it?

 

* * *

 

The exhibition hall where the jewel is being displayed echoes with footsteps and radio chatter, three minutes before the announced time.

Conan and Neil stand off to one side of the cavernous space, the latter eyeing the surrounding chaos with interest.

“So, what’s the truth, Dylandy-san? I don’t think you flew in from the US and tried to barge into a heist just because you like Kid,” Conan adds at the innocent look that’s directed at him. (He knows _Sonoko,_ after all, and she certainly hasn’t tried to bully her way past the police unless the Suzuki family is already involved.)

“You’re probably not going to believe me, but keep it a secret, okay?” Neil leans down and says, in one unbroken sentence, “I’m really an FBI agent, but I’m here on holiday and my twin brother – he’s CIA, my working theory is that he joined mostly to annoy me – told me about the heist and bet me twenty dollars that I couldn’t solve the note myself, so here I am.”

…he’s right. Conan doesn’t believe any of that, much as it further cements his opinion that Kid wouldn’t come up with such an unlikely cover.

“Remember, it’s a secret!” Neil says with a wink as he straightens, because even if he most probably isn’t Kid in disguise he’s certainly got the thief’s dramatic mannerisms down pat. “And call me Neil, anything else makes me feel like my father.”

Conan raises an eyebrow. “I think I’ll save that for after you’ve proven yourself not to be Kaitou Kid in disguise, so – ”

The rest of his sentence is lost when the lights cut out, and everything falls into chaos.

 

* * *

 

Which, in this case, means that nearly all of the officers present find themselves glued to the nearest wall or solid surface in short order with some bizarrely quick-drying adhesive.

(Conan has _no_ idea where Kid gets all this stuff, really, though the thief or whoever else it was could certainly give the professor a close run in the interesting-but-impractical development race.)

He switches on the watch flashlight and does a quick scan of the room. Only about a dozen officers remain unscathed, having moved towards the centre of the exhibition room, and Conan recognises most of them as Task Force members. Unsurprising, he thinks as the lights flicker back on, since dealing with Kid was certainly an area where practice meant improved dodging skills if nothing else.

Somewhat more surprisingly, Neil Dylandy is free as well, having dodged in the opposite direction to Conan himself when the pellets of adhesive had been more-or-less exploded out of the display stand in the blackout. Whoever had been the last to check it is definitely going to be chewed out thoroughly by Nakamori.

They stare at each other for a moment, over the muffled sound of Kid’s voice from outside the building – decoys and distractions, most probably, to deal with the unusually large police presence that’s been gathered here today.

His hypothesis is proven right when a plume of faintly pink gas hisses out from the tiles beneath the display stand, effectively taking down the remaining officers who’d moved forward to check the jewel, and Kid strolls in with a leisurely gait.

“Say, who’s this?” the thief asks with a grin, even as Conan brings the watch up and flicks up the targeting face. “Another detective friend of yours, tantei-kun?”

“Not at all!” Neil answers just as cheerfully. “I’m a big fan, actually, d’you think I could get an autograph?”

Conan misses Kid’s reaction to that, because he’s too busy staring at Neil with a sense of impending betrayal.

“I said I’d help,” Neil says in a slow drawl, and Conan facepalms because he can without looking that the supposed FBI agent is making those damned finger guns at him again. “I didn’t say _who_ I’d help, now did I?”

(Honestly, he’d almost be tempted to vastly revise his previously estimated odds of the supposed FBI agent being Kid if the thief himself wasn’t already there.)

“If you give me a mailing address, sure!” Kid interrupts with an annoying look of amusement on his face. “But if you’ll excuse me, I still have a heist to run and tantei-kun there looks like he’s ready to use me for soccer practice.”

“Oh, you _bet,_ ” Conan answers with a smirk, already reaching for the control dial on his shoes.

 

 

 

**iii.**

It’s a week later when Conan finds himself at Haido Park after school with all the Detective Boys (except Haibara, who’d gone home directly after school to help the professor with his newest invention), along with the newest transfer student into Teitan High.

The older teen had introduced himself as Setsuna after being left with them by an apologetic Ran – she’d volunteered to help show him around town while he waited to meet a friend, but had to rush back to school when some accident had occurred at the karate club’s afternoon training.

Which would have been fine, really. The Detective Boys certainly hadn’t voiced any objections to the unexpected company, and they were already recruiting him into some complicated version of hide-and-seek despite his obvious reluctance.

…except that something about Setsuna had struck Conan as _wrong_ since the moment they’d met, even though he can’t yet pinpoint what it is.

It isn’t just his obvious discomfort in the school uniform, since Conan knows firsthand just how stifling the Teitan blazer can be, especially when worn outdoors.

But there _is_ something in his posture, Conan thinks, that reminds him of –

Then someone screams about a dead body, and Conan dismisses the thought as he runs over.

 

* * *

 

The phone rings twice before Takagi picks up, and Conan gives the detective their location before turning back towards the body laid out on the grass.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Conan finds his attention split almost evenly between the crime scene and Setsuna, who’d almost been right on his heels, followed a few seconds later by the Detective Boys.

The first problem is almost ironically straightforward, for the most part. Conan hasn’t managed to find any form of identification yet, but whoever this was had clearly been killed somewhere else and dumped here. The fatal blow had been dealt with a heavy but thin object – forensics would likely be able to recover a more detailed impression. It pointed towards a crime of opportunity rather than premeditated murder, though that left the puzzling question of why the body had been left in such a public location.

The second problem, however, is quite the opposite. Setsuna had zeroed right in on the body without even a moment of hesitation, and the list of people Conan knows of who’d done the same at crime scenes isn’t a long one. It runs something like this: Hattori Heiji, Hakuba Saguru, the more experienced officers of Division One – and himself, of course.

He watches out the corner of his eye as Setsuna snaps a photograph of the only other odd point about the scene – the bottle full of amber liquid that’d been left beside the body.

That didn’t make any sense, either. His mind had made the obvious leap to the alcohol codenames of the Organisation, of course, but attracting attention like this didn’t seem to match their MO, unless…

Conan is almost hissing in frustration when he hears a vaguely familiar voice in the distance.

“Yo, Setsuna!” calls someone from behind, and Conan turns in disbelief to see _Neil Dylandy_ , of all people, waving as he crosses the park towards them.

“So when you said you were meeting a friend, you meant Dylandy-san?” Conan crosses his arms as he narrows his eyes at Setsuna, and he doesn’t need the continued tug at his instincts to tell him that there’s something else going on here.

Neil leans towards him, and Conan doesn’t quite manage to dodge as the agent reaches out to ruffle his hair. “Like I said, just Neil will do, kid, don’t make me old before my time! And yeah, Setsuna here is a pretty well-known detective back home, he’s staying with me while I help him find an apartment to rent. So what have we got here?”

“Blunt force trauma, near instantaneous death,” Setsuna answers before Conan can protest the blatant change of topic, though he’s somewhat vindicated by the answer to at least one of his questions. “Edogawa-kun’s already called the local police, but I doubt they’re going to find anything of significance.”

Neil gives a non-committal hum as he moves to stand in between them, gaze scanning quickly over the scene before stopping on the bottle that’d puzzled Conan earlier.

“Rye, huh,” he murmurs almost absently, then –

Neil turns suddenly, and before Conan can react the agent reaches out to shove Setsuna away before pulling Conan with him to fall backwards in the opposite direction.

The distinctive sound of breaking glass as they hit the ground silences any protest Conan would’ve usually had about being manhandled like that.

He scrambles to his feet and stares at where the bottle has been shattered by the rifle bullet now buried in the grass. An execution shot, he thinks automatically, and one that might easily have hit any of them if Neil hadn’t reacted on time.

“Nice save, Neil-san,” Conan manages, still reeling slightly with disbelief.

“You’re welcome.” Neil pushes himself into a sitting position, sounding somewhat out of breath – unsurprising, since Conan had landed almost squarely on his chest. He stands, dusting his jacket off as he calls out. “You okay over there, Setsuna?”

Setsuna gives a sharp nod as he straightens from a protective crouch over the Detective Boys, who look startled but otherwise unharmed, and Conan spares a moment to feel relief at the fact that Haibara hadn’t joined them today before turning back again.

Neil – and if Conan had any remaining doubts about his being an FBI agent they were certainly dispelled now – is sweeping his gaze across the rooftops in the direction where the shot had come from, though with the sheer number of buildings overlooking Haido Park it’s nearly impossible to narrow down the sniper’s location to any one of them.

Conan’s about to say as much when Neil turns to him, expression grim. “We need to get out of here, and my apartment might not be safe. Do you know any place nearby?”

 

 

 

**ii.**

They pile into Neil’s Chevrolet – it’s something of a tight fit, but the kids scramble into the backseat of the pickup truck readily enough, and Conan directs Neil towards the professor’s house.

He sends a text to Haibara on the way, and she opens the front door as soon as they arrive, ushering Ayumi and the others in before turning to Conan.

“You said it was an emergency.” She crosses her arms, her words low and tense. “You didn’t say what kind.”

“Dead body and a sniper at Haido Park,” Conan answers, just as grimly. “It wasn’t targeted at me, but…”

The nigh-certainty of Organisation involvement hangs unspoken between them.

Haibara nods at the truck still parked outside the front gate. “What about those two?”

“FBI. One of them is, at least,” Conan answers – though he’s starting to have his suspicions about Setsuna – and is surprised when Haibara tenses even further in response. “What is it?”

“They’ve been involved with the Organisation before. It didn’t end well,” she says shortly, before turning away to enter the house herself. “I’ll keep the children occupied, but I’d advise you to see those agents off, for your own sake.”

“And turn down the only solid lead I’ve gotten so far? Not a chance.” Conan narrows his eyes at her back. “What aren’t you telling me, Haibara?”

She doesn’t answer the question, but then he hadn’t been expecting her to. “Be careful, Kudo-kun. I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the backfire as well.”

The door closes behind her before Conan can reply, though he’s already making his way back to the truck.

Neil turns to look at him as he clambers into the backseat, his expression still uncharacteristically serious. “You sure about this, kid? There’s still time to turn back, you know.”

Conan resists the urge to grit his teeth in annoyance – he’s already made his choices and people need to _stop asking him that._

“That whole incident earlier was a warning intended specifically for you, indicating a threat linked somehow to rye,” he says rapidly, laying out the deductions that’d been falling into place since the park. “Coincidentally enough, I know of a large criminal organisation based here in Japan with a tendency to use alcoholic drinks as codenames. I’d go so far as to say that you’ve ventured this far out of your jurisdiction specifically to track down this same organisation. And you’re not the only FBI agent in this car.”

Conan’s gaze flicks to Setsuna – who shows enough surprise to confirm that last part – before looking back to Neil.

“Setsuna looks younger than he is, and could practice his undercover skills,” Neil answers blithely – though he doesn’t try to deny any of it, at least. “How did you find out about the Organisation?”

“Personal experience,” Conan answers flatly, refusing to elaborate any further. “Park the truck somewhere nearby. We can use the neighbouring house to talk, I have the keys on me but it needs to look unoccupied right now.”

He catches the hint of a grin this time as Neil turns away to start the engine again.

“On it, boss,” Neil adds, and Conan kicks the back of his seat.

 

* * *

 

Neil parks the truck in a nearby alley, and they double back to the Kudo house on foot, senses on high alert.

Conan is unlocking the back gate when someone walks up to them, and he pivots sharply, already bringing up his wristwatch to aim before Neil steps in front of the newcomer.

“Relax, Conan-kun,” Neil says easily, then drops his voice to an exaggerated stage whisper. “Allow me to introduce our great and fearless leader, Tieria Erde!”

“I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself, thank you.” Tieria – their supervisory agent, going by Neil’s words – nods at Conan in greeting, the gesture as prim as his words. “This, however, would be a conversation best continued indoors.”

Conan pushes open the back gate in lieu of a response – though not before glaring at Neil, because _some_ advance warning would’ve been appreciated even if he was making a point – and leads them into the library. His father had soundproofed the space to use for his writing, and the single entrance also made it the most defensible room in the house if it came to that.

Tieria goes directly to the large table in the centre of the room, already taking out a laptop from his bag, and Setsuna follows him while Neil helps Conan draw the blackout curtains and switch on the lights.

When they get back to the table, Setsuna’s handphone is already connected to the laptop, and Tieria is studying one of the crime scene photos from earlier.

Conan takes the chair next to him, and is leaning over for a closer look at the photo when the senior agent asks him a question. “Can you tell me what happened before the shot?”

“Aw, come on, Tieria!” Neil interjects before Conan can reply, sitting down next to Setsuna. “He’s seven, there’s no need to treat him like one of your field agent candidates.”

Tieria gives Neil an unimpressed look – one Conan’s fairly certain is mirrored on his own face – as he clicks through to the next photo. “Your account of events, please, Edogawa-kun.”

It’s clearly a test of some sort – understandable given the circumstances, though it makes little difference to Conan’s response. He recounts the afternoon’s events in detail, starting with his and Setsuna’s discovery of the body.

Tieria frowns slightly when he finishes, looking to Neil. “The shot was fired after you identified the bottle, Neil?”

“Immediately after,” Neil says with a confirming nod. “Someone was watching very closely, and wanted to make sure that we got the message.”

Nothing new there, Conan thinks with mounting impatience when the conversation halts. He’s already figured out as much, and is about to ask for some _actual_ information when Tieria breaks the silence.

“It would seem prudent for me to make that call now,” Tieria says, seemingly apropos of nothing.

Across the table, Neil shrugs with studied casualness – it’s clear that he’d understood the sentence perfectly despite the lack of any detail. “Sorry, Tieria. I know you didn’t want to involve him in this, but…”

Tieria doesn’t answer either way, only takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose in what is easily the most unguarded gesture that Conan’s seen him make so far.

Conan _wants_ to know, he really does, but he waits until Tieria’s gone off to a far corner of the library – taking his handphone with him, glasses still left neatly folded on the table – before asking. “Him?”

The question is directed at Neil, but to Conan’s surprise it is Setsuna who answers in clipped tones. “Allelujah Haptism. Ostensibly the fourth member of our team, though he hasn’t been in action for almost a year now. I believe there’s been talk among the higher-ups of removing him from duty altogether.”

“Now, now,” Neil interjects, with a hint of a smile. “You _know_ Tieria would never let that happen. Allelujah’s been through a lot, after all, they’d need some pretty serious justification to fire him.”

Conan watches, out the corner of his eye, as Tieria speaks on the phone – his words are muted, almost muffled by the walls, but from the slight crease of his brow… reluctance, and concern? His earlier words had certainly suggested as much. “Was Haptism-san injured in the line of duty?”

“You’re good, kid.” Neil’s grin becomes slightly more genuine. “And that’s not completely wrong, but actually – ”

This time, it’s Setsuna who interrupts. “Civilians aren’t cleared to know about FBI operations, _Lockon_.”

(Conan files the name away for later consideration – it points rather obviously to a codename of some sort, but he hasn’t heard similar ones for Setsuna or Tieria. It seems irregular, to say the least.)

“Ongoing operations, maybe, this one doesn’t qualify,” Neil replies flippantly, and Setsuna doesn’t actually sigh but it’s evident that he’s given up on matters of protocol. “Allelujah was undercover in the Org for a long time. He went pretty deep, and was close to getting a terrible codename and everything. Then – ” Neil twirls a finger, expression gone hard and wry, “ – as they say, shit hit the fan.”

“That codename was Rye, I assume,” Conan says, and Neil nods in confirmation. “His cover was blown?”

“By accident,” answers Tieria, as he resumes his seat next to Conan. “He was forced to lay low for quite a while after that, and the Organisation still has him fairly high on their hit list, but Allelujah’s skills at evasion are… above average, certainly.”

Neil actually snorts at that one, all traces of his earlier tension gone. “ _Above average_ – now that’s a joke if I ever heard one. He can’t compete with Kid-sama, of course, but who can?”

Conan’s about to say – well, he doesn’t know what, really, except that Neil’s obsession with Kaitou Kid has clearly gone overboard – when the agent adds, with a wink, “I think you’ll find Allelujah quite interesting, Conan-kun.”

 

 

 

**i.**

When Allelujah Haptism arrives, though, he is nothing like what Conan imagined, based on what little detail he’s been able to glean from Neil.

(In retrospect, he really should have expected that much. Even speaking as a current six-year-old who routinely solves murders and chases down crime syndicates as a hobby – and yes, Conan realises the irony in that – no one in this FBI unit is _normal,_ by most definitions of the word.

Neil hasn’t stopped appearing at Kid heists to show enthusiastic support for the thief, much to Nakamori’s chagrin, while Setsuna has proven himself to be possibly the only person _worse_ at maintaining a cover than Conan himself is.

Tieria remains a mostly unknown quantity, with how rarely he appears in person, but Conan is fairly certain that the main reason the agent is nominally in charge is because he’s the one most capable of carefully writing their reports around various things the superiors don’t want to hear.)

At any rate, it’s only when Neil enters Cafe Poirot eight minutes into their conversation and looks momentarily surprised at the sight of them at neighbouring tables that Conan puts it together and thinks, _oh._

The name he’s using is a fake, of course, along with his claims of being a graduate student on a sabbatical trip. But everything else about Allelujah Haptism seems unquestionably genuine, from the self-depreciating smile he’d worn when asking Ran and Sonoko about for menu recommendations ( _I haven’t been in Japan for a while,_ he’d said, corroborated by the airport stickers on the backpack beside him), to the slightly battered digital camera he’d showed several photos from as he talked (with his back to the wall, Conan now notices, out of any easy sight-lines from the street).

Given more time, Conan would likely have deduced otherwise, but – _above average_ had been a massive understatement, he now agrees with Neil on that one. It’s hardly surprising that Allelujah’s infiltration of the Organisation was so successful, though it does make Conan wonder what the agent is like in the field.

Neil orders an iced latte at a separate table and drinks it slowly, waiting until Ran and Sonoko leave before walking over to take the seat to Conan’s right, which puts his back to Allelujah while still being the closest to him. It’s a tactical move, since Neil’s acquaintance with Conan is already known, and another point in favour of the fact that Neil puts far more thought into his actions that is apparent from his usual nonchalance.

“It’s good to see you looking well,” Neil says with an easy grin, taking another sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a clink. “I have to say, that long hair looks good on you.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep it, I think,” Allelujah answers lightly, and Conan can see his gaze dart quickly from him to Neil and back, though none of his thoughts show on his face. “So you’re the kid that everyone’s been talking about? No offence, you’re just younger than I was expecting.”

“Tell me about it,” Conan mutters under his breath, and sends a death glare at Neil before the agent can even _think_ about ruffling his hair again.

Neil wilts with a faint pout – serves him right for constantly trying to treat both him _and_ Setsuna like little brothers, honestly. (It’s a wonder that the latter hasn’t snapped and eviscerated the older agent yet, but Conan is inclined to think that it’s just a matter of time.)

The amusement that flickers across Allelujah’s expression suggests that he’s perfectly aware of the byplay. “Well, you managed to impress Tieria quite a bit, which would be an achievement even for someone several times your age. I’m Allelujah, by the way, nice to meet you properly.”

“Edogawa Conan, detective,” Conan answers – it’d feel rude not to, though he’d already introduced himself during the conversation earlier.

“So I heard. Neil here has been texting non-stop about you. Well, you _and_ another Kid, so to speak,” Allelujah adds, almost as an afterthought.

“Hey now,” Neil protests, “don’t go spilling everything about me, Allelujah, you’ll ruin my air of mystery!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Allelujah says blandly, taking another sip of his green tea. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”

Conan snorts, drawing their attention back to him. “Hardly, I’m quite certain Nakamori-keibu is seriously considering banning him from heists by this point. Either the inspector thinks you’re Kid’s biggest fan, or newest accomplice. Possibly both.”

“But to stop me from seeing my Kid-sama? He wouldn’t _dare!_ ” Neil gasps dramatically – Conan knows for a fact that both he and Allelujah roll their eyes in response – before settling back into a more normal tone. “Well, it can’t be helped, Lyle _did_ ask me to keep an eye out for Kid while I’m here, after all.”

Allelujah’s expression shifts slightly at that, and Conan is abruptly reminded of the brother that Neil had mentioned at their first meeting, but before he can ask what interest the CIA could _possibly_ have in a Japanese thief Neil is already continuing.

“Not to mention, he’s skilled enough that I’d be tempted to recruit him if we were back home, phantom thief or not.” Neil grins. “Just imagine what Tieria would say to that!”

Conan imagines _Kid_ as an FBI agent instead, and almost chokes on his drink.

 

* * *

 

They exit the cafe together, but Neil heads off to run an errand, leaving Conan and Allelujah to walk over to the Kudo house themselves.

“Is there anything else you want to know, Conan-kun?” Allelujah asks, matching his stride to Conan’s. “I know how Tieria and Setsuna are like, and even I have trouble getting straight answers out of Neil somet–”

The sentence is cut off at the sound of a nearby scream. Like the flick of a switch, Allelujah’s posture goes abruptly from casual wariness to a tense readiness that spelt _danger_ as clear as day, and Conan feels a slight chill down his spine.

They both pinpoint the source of the disturbance around the same time – Conan relaxes fractionally when it turns out to be a purse snatching rather than murder, and some part of his mind registers amusement that the culprit is running right in their direction.

“Excuse me for a moment, Conan-kun,” Allellujah says from beside him, and doesn’t even put down his backpack before stepping directly into the robber’s path and flipping him over into a stranglehold.

Conan doesn’t recognise the fighting style, but it’s as neatly executed as Ran’s karate or Kogoro’s judo throws, and judging from the robber’s quickly reddening complexion Allelujah is applying enough force to constrict his airways.

“You,” Allelujah says, his voice still mildly pleasant but utterly devoid of its earlier warmth, “are going to return the purse and that handphone you slipped into your pocket, or you won’t like what I do to you next. _Are we clear?_ ”

The would-be robber nods frantically, purse strap already falling from nerveless fingers, and scrabbles at his pocket for the phone once Allelujah lets him go, tossing it behind him as he runs.

Conan manages to catch the phone before it hits the pavement, and drops it back into the purse just as the owner – Kinue Crossroad, according to the tag looped around the purse’s strap – hurries up, her panic shifting rapidly into relief when she sees him holding it.

Kinue thanks both of them profusely before excusing herself, though Allelujah seems almost uncomfortable with the attention, beneath the hard expression he’s still wearing.

Then he shrugs, and it’s as if the earlier persona falls from his shoulders with the motion, leaving the mild-mannered agent to turn back towards Conan with a slightly sheepish smile. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

“A little,” Conan answers honestly. That’d been a glimpse of how Allelujah had been like as an undercover operative, and it’s… convincing, to say the least.

“I shouldn’t have overreacted like that,” Allelujah says quietly as they start walking again. “It’s just… when you’re someone else for a long time, the persona starts to become real in itself, I guess.”

Conan grimaces in silent agreement – he can’t very well explain it, of course, but it’s a sentiment he fully understands.

“Actually, there _is_ something I wanted to ask you, Allelujah-san,” he says instead, gathering his thoughts as the agent nods at him to continue. “Why haven’t you tried to talk me out of doing this? M– I mean, Shinichi-niichan’s parents and Neil-san have both done it. Tieria-san probably would, too, if I saw him more often.”

(As would Setsuna, from Conan’s best guess, though it’s frankly hard to know for sure – he doesn’t pretend to understand the stoic agent particularly well.)

Allelujah’s answer is almost hesitant. “I had a friend once. She… well, it’s a long story, but it took me a long time to learn that caring about her also meant supporting her to do what she wanted. And – ” he pauses, a faraway smile flickering briefly to life. “You’re smart, Conan-kun, and you made the choice to pursue these people despite knowing the risks entailed. It’s the least I can do to respect that.”

Conan mulls over the answer for a moment. “Your friend, is she…”

“Oh, she’s alright.” Allelujah’s smile returns, and widens into something genuine. “I can’t be with her without putting her in danger until we’re done here, but it’s enough to know that she’s alive and well, you know?”

“I know.” Conan grins fiercely at him as they round the corner to his house. “Let’s get these guys, Allelujah-san, so you can be with her again.”

“Yeah,” Allelujah answers, a steely glint in his eye. “Let’s do this.”

 

 

.

 

 

**0.**

Tieria is in the middle of a conference call with two agents – both women, one with hair a striking bubblegum pink, though Conan doesn’t know either of them – when Neil walks into the Kudo library, which has become the de facto base of operations in the months since that first meeting.

The senior agent doesn’t even glance up, only covers his headset’s microphone before speaking. “The FBI issued you a windbreaker, Agent Dylandy, not a cloak.”

“Give it up, Tieria,” Allelujah advises, following Neil into the room along with Setsuna. “I’ve never seen Neil wear that thing properly since the first day he received it, and I’ve known him for longer than you have.”

“I don’t know,” says the agent in question with mock consideration, tugging at the windbreaker now draped across his shoulders. “It’s rather unfashionable, don’t you think?”

Allelujah chuckles, tying his hair up into its customary ponytail. “Well, it _is_ the Federal Bureau of Investigation, not the Fashion Bureau of…”

“Inspiration? Interventions?” Neil suggests when Allelujah’s words trail off. “Hang on, I’ve got a better idea, how about – ”

Conan’s been busy sneaking glances at Tieria’s laptop screen with only half an ear on their banter, so he squawks in surprise when a pile of fabric falls suddenly on him.

Or, more precisely, one adult-sized FBI windbreaker descends upon him courtesy of Neil, who grins widely as he snaps a picture with his phone. “Hey, look, Tieria – I got you a new agent!”

“Thank Veda,” Tieria mutters, deadpan. “I could certainly do with another adult on this team.”

(Setsuna actually snickers slightly at that as he helps to remove the oversized windbreaker that’s gotten tangled around Conan’s arms.)

Tieria closes the laptop as he stands, putting it back into his bag. “Now, if the two of you are _quite_ done chatting – and no, I’d rather you not take that as a challenge, Neil – we should get going.”

“Oh, you don’t need to ask me twice.” Neil grins, almost sharklike, as he shoulders his rifle case. “Did HQ send reinforcements?”

“Sumeragi approved four tac teams with full gear,” Tieria answers, already heading towards the door at a brisk pace. “They’re going to meet us there directly with Lasse and Lichtendahl.”

“You _do_ realise you’re the only one who calls Lichty that, right? Honestly…” Neil’s voice fades as he follows Tieria out of the room.

Allelujah shakes his head with some amusement, watching as Setsuna folds the windbreaker’s sleeves up in deft motions before handing it back to Conan wordlessly. “Ready?”

Conan shrugs the windbreaker back on – it’s still ridiculously ill-fitting, but at least he can see his hands now – and answers with a smirk. “Of course.”

“Then let’s go, Conan-kun, Setsuna.” Allelujah’s smile is calmly determined as he turns towards the door. “It’s time to end this.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written very much out of order and I dearly hope I've patched all the glaring holes ~~but probably haven't lbr~~
> 
> anyway, more headcanons (with contributions from ninthfeather!) in case that wasn't enough reading for you:
> 
> Tieria is the leader of the team here, a position he would greatly prefer not to have, but who else is going to write the reports when Neil and Setsuna keep going off to do ridiculous (if justified) things on their own? probably graduated top of his class at the FBI academy, which is part of why everyone thinks he's the proverbial good cop. (he's not.)
> 
> Neil and Allelujah attended the academy around the same time, so Alle can definitely testify to Neil's vendetta against the windbreaker (this _is_ the guy with fur on his vest collar in canon, after all). Neil is the team's sniper/general firearms expert, and possibly might run for the new president of the Kaitou Kid fan club. Alle's undercover personality is very much like Hallelujah, except more sane and less bloodthirsty, hopefully.
> 
> Setsuna is the most junior (and unusually young but *handwaves*) agent here, used to be a teen detective like Shinichi, and completely disagrees with Conan and the DB being around dead bodies/generally unsafe situations so much. a concern he expresses by stalking them quietly and incessantly whenever he can, of course, because – well, _Setsuna_. it'd be irritating and somewhat creepy if he hadn't actually saved them more than once. (Conan still thinks it's annoying, though.)


	2. postlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (come say hi on [tumblr](http://presumenothing.tumblr.com/)!)
> 
> extra scene cut to a new chapter for reasons, and because this is entirely not G00-centric.

**?.**

It’s late at night when Kaito gets a message from Jii.

(Not that he’d been asleep, of course, but it’s unusual for Jii to contact him this late without an impending heist to prepare for.)

Kaito opens it curiously, and his blood runs abruptly cold the second he realises what he’s seeing. There’s no text, only one image – a photo taken with one of several hidden cameras in the Blue Parrot, judging from the angle.

More important, though, is the person that’s captured in the image, the recessed lighting of the bar just enough to outline the profile of one Neil Dylandy.

Kaito is already on his feet and heading for the Kid room even as questions and implications flood his mind. It _could_ be a coincidence, of course – there aren’t that many billiard halls in Ekoda, and the Blue Parrot is easily the most well-known of them – but he has to consider the possibility that it isn’t.

Neil is a FBI agent on holiday, apparently, and isn’t attending heists in any official capacity. Nothing Kaito has gathered from his listening bugs suggests that the agent has any reason to connect Kuroba Kaito to Kaitou Kid, though.

Either way, Kaito’s not going to find out anything more by staying at home, so he puts on a quick disguise and heads out.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost closing time when he arrives, but Neil is still sitting at the bar, one of only three customers left.

Jii, bless his heart, catches on to the disguise immediately – a slip-up now would be… disastrous, to say the least. This persona is one Kaito uses only for recon work and odd jobs at various museums, often enough to stand up to a cursory background check, but still not easily linked to Kid.

Kaito settles down at the counter, two seats away from Neil, and orders two fingers of bourbon when Jii announces the last call for drinks.

It’s just tea, of course, but Jii has more than enough stage experience to make it look convincing, especially in the dim light of the bar. Kaito sips at it slowly, and resists the urge to make a face. (Cold tea isn’t exactly great, but fake beer tastes much worse, as he can confirm from experience.)

Neil’s been on the same pint of beer since he arrived, an Irish stout that Jii had imported a while back, and he doesn’t speak until several minutes after the other two customers have left.

“Pity.” Neil sounds… almost morose, compared to the cheerful agent that Kaito’s gotten used to seeing on his heists. “I was hoping that I’d run into Kaitou Kid here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Kaito responds, his voice gruff and nothing at all like Kid’s. “I’ve got nothing to do with that thief.”

“Of course,” Neil says agreeably. “But I suppose I wouldn’t even know if you were Kid, would I?”

“Because Kid would _totally_ want to disguise as a loser like me, sure,” Kaito answers with a snort of disbelief. It’s not difficult, seeing as he can’t _believe_ he’s having this conversation. What is the agent even thinking?

Neil drains the last of his drink and stands. “Ah, well. Give Kid my regards if you see him, I’m a big fan.”

Kaito notices the white square of card that’s been left under Neil’s glass, of course. But pointing it out would show that he’s been paying suspiciously close attention, so he doesn’t.

Besides, if Neil hadn’t left that on purpose, Kaito would eat his Kid hat, hidden tricks and all.

He waits until Neil is out the door and out of sight, then waits three more minutes after _that_ before reaching over to snag the card – and, yep, no hat-eating required. That much is immediately clear, from the fact that it’s the very same autograph card that he’d mailed to the address Neil had more-or-less shouted at him during the second heist he’d attended.

Not that Kaito can make any sense of what’s now written on the reverse side in unexpectedly neat handwriting: a phone number, followed by a short sentence. _I’m here to help._

Kaito blinks in surprise, and looks again. Nope, he’s not dreaming, the words are still there.

He listens to the familiar sounds of Jii tidying up the place, and thinks.

On the one hand, Kaito (or rather, Kid) can either turn down the offer or acknowledge some form of connection to Blue Parrot. On the other hand, though, Kaito might not be up to speed about criminal law but he’s _fairly_ certain that an FBI agent isn’t supposed to be aiding a known criminal, even on holiday.

It’s a form of collateral, if he’s reading this correctly. Probably a smart move on Neil’s part.

…ugh, this really isn’t his type of thing. Deductions ought to be left to detectives, as far as he’s concerned.

Jii finishes closing up and comes over, frowning in visible concern. “What was that about?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out,” Kaito decides aloud, vanishing the card in a puff of smoke. Tantei-kun seems to know Neil outside of heists, so he’ll start from there… assuming a soccer ball doesn’t finish him off first.

Well. Time to start planning his next heist, then.

 

 

 


End file.
